


Traditions

by Elbeeinthewild



Category: NCIS
Genre: Complete, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 15:03:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17266364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elbeeinthewild/pseuds/Elbeeinthewild
Summary: For Gibbs and Tony, solitude has long been their Christmas tradition. Could this year mark the beginning of some new traditions?





	Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> Set in mid season 2.
> 
> Unbeta'd, because she needs a break from my madness. There are probably errors because I'm a terrible editor when I'm tired. I hope you enjoy it anyway ;)
> 
> Written for the "Happy Holidays" Theme Challenge on LJ.

 

* * *

Gibbs was torn between hovering over the still dripping coffee pot, and doing something about the pervasive chill in the house. He’d been awakened by the unexpected sound of heavy sleet hitting the roof shingles and tinkling off the glass windows. It was 4 AM on Christmas morning and he resigned himself to the pensive mood that always stole over him on this loneliest of days. Looking at the coffee pot with a rueful sigh, the cold won out and he decided to start a fire while the coffee brewed.

 

He knelt and reached into the fireplace with the poker, stirring the ash and still-warm embers from last nights’ fire. He methodically piled crumpled newspaper and kindling then stacked several small logs onto the grate and set them alight. He rose once he was sure the flames took, drawn by the smell of coffee in the air. A soft sound drew his attention and he turned back to the door in time to see a figure through the pane of leaded glass in the front door.

 

Well, how about that…maybe he was finally going to catch his mysterious gift-giver in action. For several years now, sometime in the middle of night on Christmas a box appeared on his front porch. Inside was always a bottle of moderately expensive bourbon and some fancy dark roast coffee with a name he couldn’t pronounce. The name might be pretentious, but it was damn good coffee. He had his suspicions as to the identity of the gift giver, but he never caught them in action until now. Then again, it might just be the paperboy.

 

Smiling in anticipation at the thought of giving whoever was out there a shock, he threw open the door just as DiNozzo stepped off the porch onto the sleet covered steps. The younger man started in surprise, his body twisting as he instinctively turned back toward Gibbs. Gibbs’ grin melted as he saw the disaster coming. Surprised out of his usual cat-like grace, DiNozzo lost his footing on the ice and crashed heavily to the icy sidewalk. He didn’t move.

 

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs called out worriedly. He moved down the sleet covered steps as quickly as he dared and knelt next to Tony, terrified he’d cracked his head on the concrete. He let out a relieved breath as Tony winced and began to carefully shift his arms and legs.

 

“You break anything with that stunt?” he asked, reaching out to help the younger man sit up.

 

“Hey, it was _your_ fault! You startled me!” Tony shot back. He sat there rubbing an elbow and looking up at Gibbs with a thoroughly indignant expression on his face.

 

“And you didn’t answer me, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said pointedly. His heart had jolted in his chest on seeing Tony unmoving on the sidewalk, and was only just now settling back into a normal rhythm.

 

Tony flushed a bit “Uh, just my…pride,” he finished hesitantly. He let go of his arm and reached for his hip and backside, which along with his elbow, had apparently taken the brunt of the fall. “I’m _fine_. Just bruised.”

 

“Uh huh. C’mon, let’s get you up,” Gibbs said, in a hurry to get them both back inside out of the sleet. He helped Tony to his feet and up the stairs, feeling icy wetness soaking through his sleeve where it was wrapped around Tony’s back.

 

“DiNozzo, you’re soaked…what the hell? Did you walk here in the sleet, or what?” he groused.

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “I parked around the corner; figured you’d hear the car engine.”

 

“Ah,” Gibbs nodded in approval at the tactic as they started carefully up the steps.

 

Tony balked on the porch. “No. Wait, Gibbs…I don’t want to intrude,” he said a little desperately, embarrassed at remembering he’d been caught out leaving his usual gifts.

 

Gibbs tightened his hold on Tony, pulled him the rest of the way across the porch and inside. Gibbs’ voice turned hard and desolate as he waved one hand around at the dark, empty house. “DiNozzo, what exactly do you think you’re intruding on?”

 

He felt Tony stiffen as soon as the sharp words left his mouth, and he looked like he was about to bolt for the door. Gibbs wanted to head slap himself for the bitter retort that had come out before he could stop it. He hoped Tony would stay, but being a bastard wasn’t the way to convince the younger man his presence was welcome.

 

Gibbs' voice was considerably warmer when he spoke again. "You’re not intruding,” he assured, with a friendly little squeeze to reinforce his words. “Now wait here, I’ll be right back.”

 

Tony stood chattering with cold and dripping water on Gibbs’ hardwood floor. His discomfort only grew as Gibbs jogged up the stairs, leaving him alone in the dark room where the only light came from the fireplace. Gibbs reappeared a few moments later and shoved a bundle into Tony’s arms.

 

“You’re shivering. Go take a hot shower and put on some dry clothes, DiNozzo, while I get you something hot to drink.”

 

Tony looked down at the bundle which was a large soft towel, sweat pants, and an old NIS hoodie, washed and worn down to buttery softness. “You want me to stay, Boss?” he asked, caught off guard by the fact that Gibbs seemed to want his company.

 

Gibbs’ lips curled in a small grin he hoped would put the younger man more at ease. “Well, its the least I can do after making you fall on your ass, DiNozzo. Now go, and by the time you’re done I’ll have something for you to drink.”

 

“Not sure I can handle that paint thinner you call bourbon this time of morning, Boss.” 

 

“No bourbon for either of us,” Gibbs assured him. “You need something hot to drink.”

 

“Not sure about the sludge you call coffee either, for that matter,” Tony said doubtfully.

 

Gibbs smirked, pleased the younger man had relaxed enough to insult his beverage of choice. “Don’t worry, DiNozzo, I think I can come up with something a little more to your liking,” Gibbs offered with an enigmatic smile.

 

Tony shrugged at that, glanced down shyly and headed to the shower. He felt a warm rush of pleasure taking the edge off the chill in the air as he trudged up the stairs. He had no idea why Gibbs was forgoing the usual solitary holiday for _his_ company and wondered what it meant, but he wasn’t going to ask. He’d just accept someone seemed to care enough to want him around on today of all days.

 

Whatever his reasons, Gibbs extended the invitation, and he had to admit he was curious as to why. After that one biting comment as they’d come inside, Gibbs had made it clear in his gruff, caring way he wanted Tony to stay. And really, the last place he really wanted to be now was back in his own apartment observing his usual tradition of having nothing but his DVDs to keep him company.

 

~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~

 

Gibbs stood at the stove, stirring a concoction he thought would appeal to DiNozzo, considering the kid’s well-known sweet tooth. The old familiar melancholy filled him as he remembered back to the last time he’d done this on Christmas morning.

 

_Don’t forget the marshmallows, Daddy!_

 

He shook off the memories and swallowed heavily against the reflexive tightening in his throat. What the hell had gotten into him, he wondered? Why it had suddenly become so important that Tony stay when he’d been bracing himself for this day, and his routine of self-imposed solitude?

 

He didn't have to think about the reasons for too long. He could chalk it up to the brief scare of Tony’s fall, and the rush of relief he hadn’t split his head open on the front walk. Or that he’d finally confirmed the identity of his mysterious annual gift giver and finally had the chance to ask him _why_. None of those were the _real_ reasons.

 

He and Tony shared a lot in common and Gibbs wondered if the younger man knew just how much they were alike. Thanks to an accidentally overheard phone call a few days ago, he learned they were kindred spirits in more ways than he’d realized.

 

Tony had his own solitary routine at Christmas, choosing to spend the day alone over accepting one of the many invitations he received each holiday. He concealed it from the others with bright grins and effortlessly spinning tales of his grand plans for the holiday. Gibbs now knew the reality was very different; that Tony stayed alone in his apartment every year unless they were working.

 

In spite of Gibbs’ best efforts to keep his distance, he’d come to care about the kid. Tony’s wellbeing mattered to him and it saddened him to learn that for some mysterious reason, the ebullient, socially active young man was driven into isolation on Christmas Day. Finally, and a bit selfishly, he realized when Tony agreed to stay, he was aware of feeling happy for the first holiday in a very long time. Maybe they could stave off their unhappy memories and loneliness together.

 

He heard a floorboard creak that signaled Tony finished his shower and was heading down the stairs.

 

~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~

 

“Gibbs?” Tony called. Under the strong smell of Gibbs’ coffee, he caught a whiff of something sweet…chocolate maybe? He leaned around the doorframe and looked into the kitchen. Gibbs’ back was to him, stirring something on the stove. “Can I help with something?” he offered.

 

“Go sit down, DiNozzo. I’ll be out in a minute. Check the fire for me, would you?”

 

“Sure, Gibbs.”

 

A few minutes later he headed into the living room, carrying a tray laden with homemade cookies and two steaming cups; coffee for himself and hot chocolate for Tony. He paused in the doorway for a moment, smiling indulgently at the picture in front of him.

 

Tony had nurtured the fire into a healthy blaze. Now sitting cross legged on the floor like a child, his back being warmed by the fire, he roamed through the channels on Gibbs’ old black and white television, unaware he was being observed. The tousled, towel dried hair made him look oddly young and vulnerable. The strength of the paternal tug Gibbs felt caught him by surprise.

 

Tony looked up as he came in and sniffed appreciatively. “Hot chocolate?” he asked, joining Gibbs on the sofa.

 

“With marshmallows,” Gibbs confirmed with a smirk.

 

“Is there any other way?” Tony asked, smiling and sipping the hot drink carefully. _Wow_ ,  _Gibbs made terrific hot chocolate_ , he thought as he enjoyed the sweet homemade treat. He reached for a cookie enthusiastically. “This is great, Boss. No offense, but you don’t really strike me as a ‘cookies and hot chocolate’ kind of guy.”

 

“I suppose not,” Gibbs agreed. “The cookies are from my neighbor; there’s dinner too if you’re hungry for real food later,” he offered. “She’s a bit of a mother hen.” Gibbs thought of the elderly couple across the street fondly; they’d been there longer than he had, and remembered the days when a child’s laughter filled the house. “The hot chocolate,” he began hesitantly, “is a tradition from…a while back.”

 

Gibbs watched Tony freeze at that. Ever perceptive to his moods, he’d sensed the subtle shift in Gibbs’ demeanor and probably knew the reason for it as well. Instead of indulging his curiosity, he ignored the possible meaning and accepted the quiet statement without question.

 

“Thanks Gibbs; it means a lot that you’re sharing the tradition with me.”

 

Gibbs shook off the maudlin mood trying to set in and nodded in acknowledgement. “You’re welcome.”

 

They sipped quietly, and relaxed in front of the fire. Once Tony had polished off his hot chocolate and two cookies, Gibbs ventured, “So…the anonymous gift giving?”

 

Tony flushed and scrubbed a hand through his already tousled hair nervously. “Yeah…kind of figured you knew it was me all along. It was like an unspoken challenge you know. Getting it here without you catching me.”

 

“Only reason I did is because the sleet woke me up,” Gibbs allowed. “That I can get…but why?”

 

“Sort of a thank you.”

 

“For what?” Gibbs asked curiously.

 

“A lot. For giving me a place to go after Baltimore,” His expression darkened with the memory and an angry edge bled into his voice. “We both know after I turned Danny in to IA, it was only a matter of time before backup came _too late_. Thin blue line, and all. I couldn’t stay in any case,” Tony explained. His tone lightened as he went on. “But it’s more than that. You took a chance on me, saw something no one else did. I’ve learned a lot. I’m still learning. I just wanted you to know I appreciate it, without making a big production out of it,” Tony finished awkwardly.

 

“And the secrecy?”

 

“Besides the fun of you not catching me?” Tony grinned. I didn’t want the others to know. They already don’t think much of me sometimes,” he said unhappily. “I didn’t want them to assume I was just sucking up to the boss, and they _would_. Especially Kate. It would have…” Tony struggled for a moment to find the right words. “It would have cheapened the sentiment behind it. Besides you weren’t supposed to know either.”

 

Gibbs nodded. “I won’t tell ‘em.”

 

“So why invite me to stay?”

 

“You’re good company, Tony, and I could use some today,” Gibbs answered simply.

 

Tony smiled shyly and looked at his watch. “Would you consider sharing one of my traditions, Gibbs?”

 

“Sure, what is it?” he asked, wondering what Tony had in mind.

 

In answer, Tony jumped up and walked over to the ancient television and changed the channel.

 

“You want to watch an old black and white television?”

 

“Well, in the case of the ultimate Christmas classic, black and white doesn’t matter,” Tony answered, settling on a channel and rejoining him on the sofa.

 

“Huh?”

 

“It’s a Wonderful Life, Gibbs!” Tony said, managing to sound both excited and slightly exasperated at the same time, as if he’d expected Gibbs to know that.

  
  
“Of course,” Gibbs answered obligingly.

 

“You’ve got time for a refill before it starts,” Tony offered, glancing at Gibbs’ empty coffee cup meaningfully.

 

By the time Gibbs came back with with a refill for each of them, the movie had already started. Tony was watching with rapt attention and Gibbs took the opportunity to observe him again.

 

As the movie progressed, Gibbs kept splitting his attention between Tony and the TV. His hot chocolate forgotten, Tony was watching so intently he never even noticed the older man’s scrutiny. He was _studying_ the film, as if waiting for some profound revelation, mouth moving along with the dialogue periodically. Clearly he’d seen the film many times. Considering the dark subject matter, it made Gibbs uneasy to see him so preoccupied.

 

Who was he kidding? First, there was Tony’s misdirections about how he spent his holidays. Now, after watching the young man become enthralled with a film whose villain went unpunished and the protagonist contemplated suicide, what he really wanted to know was that the young man was okay. That he didn’t have to worry about Tony becoming one of those sad holiday statistics. God knew Tony gave him cause enough to worry on the job, without this.

 

He’d forged an immediate connection in Baltimore with the brilliant young detective, but a very complex individual lurked beneath that handsome, carefree surface. An odd mix of brash confidence coexisted with low self esteem and an insecurity he only just beginning to suspect the source of. There were things Tony was hiding; dark things that were only hinted at in the background check Gibbs had run before recruiting him, and this chance opportunity to share Tony’s Christmas ‘tradition’ had some bearing.

 

When the film was over, Tony looked down as if noticing his full cup for the first time. He picked it up and gulped down the now-cool liquid. “Thanks for watching with me Gibbs,” he smiled.

 

“So why does this movie resonate with you so much?” Gibbs ventured, hoping for some insight.

 

Tony’s eyes snapped to his, considering Gibbs warily for a long moment.

 

“It’s a _classic_ ,” Tony hedged with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Who doesn’t love a classic?”

 

There was something Tony wasn’t saying; something important. “Why do you pretend you're fine when you aren’t?” Gibbs asked point blank.

 

“Why do _you_?” Tony shot back, challenge clear in his voice.

 

“Don’t deflect; talk.” Gibbs insisted.

 

Tony sat up, preparing to rise. “You don’t get to do that. Not about this.” Tony was defensive now; angry and glaring mutinously. “If you want to know, don’t order me. _Ask_.”

 

 _Aw hell, here he was acting like the proverbial bull in a china shop._ Tony’s fight or flight instinct was well and truly triggered now. He took in the stiff, tense posture and knew he had just one chance to fix this.

 

“Calm down Tony. You’re right; we're not at work now. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I’d like to know.”

 

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

 

“Because I've always been better at listening and watching than talking. Because I worry about you.”

 

“You know about my mother?”

 

Gibbs nodded. “And you know about my family.”

 

Tony frowned, remembering the guilt and sorrow he felt on uncovering the murder of Gibbs’ first wife and daughter, but he’d needed to know what kind of man Gibbs was before signing on at NCIS. It gave him insight into Gibbs’ behavior that no one else had, and he was a lot more tolerant of Gibbs’ ‘second B’ making a frequent appearance as a result.

 

“One good background check deserves another,” Tony admitted ruefully. “Especially after Danny. I needed to know I wasn’t going from the frying pan into the fire.”

 

“Ah,” Gibbs nodded in understanding. Tony deserved an answer to his question, and perhaps Gibbs sharing something would put him more at ease with talking about what was on his mind. “I pretend I’m fine because it’s the next best thing. If I can convince the world I'm fine, maybe I'll start to believe I actually am.”

 

Tony slumped a bit. The idea sunk in that Gibbs wouldn’t browbeat him into talking about something so deeply personal because of his control issues, but rather because he cared. Tony couldn’t help but be touched by that, and by Gibbs opening the door to discuss his own deeply personal tragedy.

 

“You know my mother died right before Christmas,” Tony began, sadness dulling the vibrant green of his eyes. He turned to stare into the dying fire as he spoke, unable to meet Gibbs’ gaze now. “This was the last movie we watched together.” Tony struggled with his emotions for a few seconds, then he went on. “What you _don’t_ know; what my father took great pains to keep from the public record, was that she committed suicide.”

 

“Tony…” Gibbs swallowed convulsively, shocked by the disclosure and unable to continue. Not only had Tony lost his mother when he was very young, she’d taken her own life. This new knowledge did nothing to reassure him about Tony’s fixation with the film.

 

Yet again, Tony displayed that preternatural ability to read him; the very thing that made them so compatible as partners.

 

“Gibbs, if you’re afraid that I identify with George Bailey for all the wrong reasons, don’t be,” Tony began with a reassuring smile. “I watch so I don’t forget that I’m _not_ my mother and I can see what she couldn’t. That as screwed up as my life has been at times, I have to believe that I’ve made a difference in the world. Watching reminds me that I’ve helped or changed at least a few people’s lives for the better and I need to keep doing what I do. That the bad guy will win sometimes, and you can’t let it destroy you. It’s a reminder that I’m not the failure my father thinks I am, and to appreciate what I have _now_ instead of being resentful for what I don’t,” he finished, a bit breathless as he turned back hesitantly to gauge Gibbs’ reaction.

 

“And what’s that?” Gibbs asked.

 

“For the first time I can remember, I feel…” Tony struggled to articulate how Gibbs made him feel. The no-nonsense rough care from such a stoic man, and one who didn’t suffer fools easily. He’d asked him to stay and made him hot chocolate; something he probably hadn’t done since his daughter died. And the word came.

 

“Valued,” Tony admitted, blushing furiously. “I feel valued; appreciated not just for what I can do, but who I am.”

 

Gibbs was moved by the earnest explanation. Tony told him he’d learned a lot from working with Gibbs. It seemed the young man had a few lessons of his own to teach, and they were well worth learning. He was proud to call this man a friend.

 

“That's because you _are_  valued, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied. The best gift he could give Tony right now was total honesty. “You deserve better than what your father, and life in general has tossed at you so far. You're a good man in spite of it, when you have every reason to be bitter. Unlike George Bailey, that’s something you figured out on your own without divine intervention.”

 

“Seems like you’re pretty good with the talking thing when you want to be,” Tony quipped.

 

Gibbs wasn’t going to let Tony make light of this until he’d reinforced his point. “When it’s important,” Gibbs agreed. “Remember Clarence’s note to George at the end?”

  
  
Tony smiled as the image came to mind, pleased Gibbs paid attention.

 

_No man is a failure who has friends._

 

At Tony’s nod, Gibbs spoke again. “You were alone before, but you aren’t now. You need to know that, and remember it. Next year Tony, bring the box inside."

 

Gibbs knew Tony understood what he was trying to say when the answering smile lit up the room.

 


End file.
